


Prayers

by inkandpencil



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And She becomes determined to weave it into Her design, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), But it grows on Her, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Friends to Lovers, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), God knows who Aziraphale and Crowley are, Her own secondary Ineffable Plan, M/M, Maybe not right away, No matter what they look like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpencil/pseuds/inkandpencil
Summary: Over the centuries, God has tuned into the prayers (and rants) of two specific ethereal and occult beings on Earth. They only ever really ask for the same thing, and it is something She is happy to grant. And if She is pleased with the way things progress between the pair, that's Her own business.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	1. Mesopotamia, 3004 B. C.

The first time it happened was during the Great Flood. The demon had enlisted the aid of the angel in helping as many children as possible as the waters began to rise. But Aziraphale had lost sight of him before the last several groups of children had arrived. They all spoke of a red-haired, golden-eyed savior, and that gave the angel hope. He couldn't stop himself from worrying as the waters kept rising.

The children were all huddled in the cave behind him as he stood out in the rain, his eyes scanning the waters and sky. One of the last things Crawly had asked of him was to stay at the cave with the children he sent to it, otherwise the angel would have spread his own wings and taken to the sky to look for the demon.

"Please, Lord," he murmured, more to himself than anything, hands clasped in front of his chest. (Little did he know, he wasn't the only one listening.) "Please keep Crawly safe. I know he's a demon and supposed to be my enemy, but…" He paused, thinking he'd seen a flash of color through the downpour. But it hadn't been anything. "He's kind. Please, keep him safe."


	2. Golgotha, 33 A.D.

The next time it happened, Aziraphale had felt wrung out, his emotions an absolute mess. He had stayed until the lifeless body had been brought down; Crawly hadn't left his side since she'd come up beside him, though neither had spoken after their initial conversation. And they had silently walked together back into town, stopping outside her domicile. She had given him a sad smile, gently cupped his cheek, then dropped her delicate hand to his upper arm and squeezed. Then she was gone, disappearing into the small home, the sound of the door closing echoing in his ears, if not the street.

Somehow, he managed to get back to the inn he was staying at. His room felt like the tomb that the body would be placed in and the door closed in such a final manner, it startled a strangled sob out of him.

Sitting on the cot, he reached up and touched his cheek where her hand had rested. His arm tingled, as well. Before he could stop them, tears streamed down his cheeks as he mourned the loss of so bright a life. And he mourned for the demon who had stood by his side in silent support.

"Please, Lord," he gasped between sobs, voicing a fear he hadn't known he had until now. "Please keep Crawly - er, Crowley - safe. She's the only being I've met who seems to _understand_. I'm trying to be a good Angel, but sometimes - like now - it's so difficult. If Crowley hadn't been there beside me today, I'm not sure I would have been able to stand it. I likely would have done something foolish. But she was. So please, keep her safe."


	3. Rome, 41 A.D.

The third time was in Rome. Crowley had been so snippy, so angry when Aziraphale initially approached him, that the angel had wondered if he should just leave the demon alone. But he instead found himself 'tempting' the first tempter with oysters and a swift correction of it being Crowley's job. It had been worth the surprised smirk on his friend's face. And that thought had surprised him, initially. But it made sense, really. The only other being on Earth who understood, not just him, but the humans around them. Of course he could think of Crowley as his friend.

The oysters were delicious, and Aziraphale wondered if they were better because he was sharing them with a friend. He filed that thought away, focusing on how much happier Crowley looked now compared to when the angel had initially approached him. The house brown also tasted a bit better here, and they were both imbibing in quite a bit of it.

Aziraphale surprised himself when he realized he didn't want the evening to end. He tried to come up with a reason, once the restaurant had closed, for them to continue their conversation, to remain in each other's presence, only to curse his mind and lack of much creativity when he couldn't.

He'd never been one of the creator angels, after all.

They walked to the inn Aziraphale was staying at slowly. The angel realized Crowley might also not want the evening to end, but couldn't come up with a way to prolong it. Once they reached the inn, the angel gave the demon a smile, reaching out to touch his arm much like Crowley had only a few year ago before saying a soft good night and retreating.

Once he was back in his room, he allowed himself to feel and think. He missed those golden yellow eyes, he realized, now that they were hidden behind dark lenses. That, coupled with his realization of how he felt friendship with his adversary, prompted him. It was habit, now, to clasp his hands in front of his chest.

"Please, Lord," he began. "Please keep Crowley safe. I can no longer see him as my enemy, in truth, for we have seen so many similar things here on Earth. And though I will denounce him to the Archangels for his own safety, I will not lie to You. Not about this. I apologize for the sword, by the way, though I think You knew even as You asked me about it.

"Crowley may be a demon, but all of my interactions with him have been positive. I may even dare to say he's treated me better than Gabriel. So please, keep my friend Crowley safe. That is all that I ask."


	4. The Kingdom of Wessex, 537 A. D.

The fourth time (though the only being keeping count was God), the angel had made it to England and was aiding King Arthur. And the demon was masquerading as the Black Knight. Aziraphale had met briefly with Crowley and had, in a fit of minor frustration, called him by his old name. The angel felt guilty about it much later, after his ire had cooled.

"Please, Lord," he began, the heartfelt words escaping him on a sigh as the angel rested, alone, in his tent. "Please keep Crowley safe. I'm not wholly certain he's fully aware of what he's up against. I fear he's in more danger than I can help with. Especially after that last conversation with Gabriel. I'm trying to help the humans, but I'm apparently too frivolous with my miracles.

"But I want to help them. And I know, deep down, that Crowley does, too. Please keep him safe and don't allow any harm - be it angelic, infernal, or human - to befall him." He paused before adding, "Amen."


	5. Unknown, 1243 A. D.

The fifth time (God was keeping official count now) happened after Crowley left to fulfill the Arrangement. The demon had cheated the coin toss - though the angel only suspected it - so to keep Aziraphale out of the danger the orders from Hell would have put him into. The way he'd left had the angel worried enough he couldn't focus on the book in his lap.

He sipped absently on his drink, looking off into the darkness of the room, thoughts on both the blessing he had been tasked with - crops, herds, and a few farmers and their families - and the orders Crowley had received. The demon had been unusually vague about what they were, so Aziraphale guessed they were likely quite dangerous. That tended to be how the demon usually reacted when they were and there was a possibility of Aziraphale having to go. Before he realized it, he was kneeling on the floor, his hands clasped before him, looking up into the darkness.

"Please, Lord," he began, not realizing he always did so when it came to Crowley. "Please keep Crowley safe. I know he's gone to do Hell's bidding, but he's also doing good works. I worry that what Hell has planned for him will cause him harm, as he was exceptionally reluctant to tell me anything about it, which is not normal. Please watch over my friend and keep him safe."

After a long pause, he added softly, "I'm worried about him." Then, a little louder, "Amen."


	6. London, 1601 A. D.

The first time the demon Crowley actually prayed to God instead of railing at Her in anger, the angel was on his way to Edinburgh to do his blessing and the demon's temptation. He had, himself, promise to help 'Hamlet' do well and he was happy to do so.

"Look, I know I'm not the best influence," he began without preamble. (If God hadn't been paying close attention, She may have missed his words. But She had a knack for knowing when the angel and demon stationed on Earth were talking to Her.) "I've never lied to Aziraphale, though. Please keep him safe on his trip. He's going a fair distance on a bloody _horse_." He groaned and covered his face for a moment, removing his dark glasses, before dropping his hand and looking up into the sky.

"I don't like admitting this to anyone, but you're so silent, I figure you won't tell anyone. And if others know, I'll know who to blame. Aziraphale is… he's my best friend. My only friend, really. So how about you make sure nothing happens to him, yeah? Just… keep him safe. I don't need anything more."

Releasing a deep sigh, Crowley turned away from the stars he'd helped create and went inside.


	7. Paris, 1793 A. D.

The second time Crowley sent a prayer up to God, he'd just seen Aziraphale onto a ship at Calais, headed back to London. The demon was angry (God felt he was justified; She was a bit confused by Her Principality's actions. But the demon _had_ made a dashing rescuer.), yet he was also extremely worried.

"Your Archangels are rubbish," he directed up. (She was inclined to agree.) "Especially that prat, Gabriel. _'Frivolous miracles'_ , indeed. The angel would have been discorporated! All because he'd received a reprimand for helping the Humans. Which was, unless I'm mistaken, what You'd told him to do when You set him on the Wall of the Garden." (He would have been surprised to know how correct he was. She had, indeed, tasked Her Guardian of the Eastern Gate with helping and protecting the Humans. And he'd always done an exemplary job of it, even constrained by Heaven.)

"So keep him safe. That's all I ask. Keep him safe and on Earth. I… I don't want to deal with another angel. I don't think we'd get along and I wouldn't want to try. Aziraphale is the best of the lot, anyway." (God could hear the things he didn't feel comfortable saying, regarding Her Principality. It was more than friendship. If they could just be together, they'd both be happy. So would She.) "And I know I shouldn't be talking to You like this or asking what I'm asking, but… Look, I may be… Too many things could get back down to the wrong ears, so I hope You… you know. Just… keep him safe, yeah?" He stopped speaking (God tuned in to the frequency She knew he needed Her to. And heard what She'd hoped.).

 _'I love him,'_ Crowley thought, letting the words warm him. (He had no idea She heard him loud and clear, but he hoped She'd picked up on it with his words. She'd done both.) Then, he turned away.


	8. London, 1862 A. D.

The sixth time came after the pair had a - rather unfortunate - meeting in St. James' Park.

"Please, Lord," Aziraphale began almost immediately after closing the door. "Please keep Crowley safe. I may have irreparably damaged our friendship in my worry-fueled anger. He asked me for Holy Water and though he said it wasn't a suicide pill, I fear I didn't believe it. I do, though. For all that I might bluster to everyone else, even him, I know Crowley has never lied to me.

"I worry he's in danger, if he's asking me for such things. He means so much to me; my existence on Earth - my very existence, in general - would be so very unpleasant without him in my life. If there were a way to let him know how much he means to me without putting him in even more danger, I wish I knew it. I suppose, until I can find a way - should he even wish to even see me again after this - I shall have to be content with You knowing.

"So I ask, yet again: Please keep the demon Crowley, a being who has been kinder to me than even Archangels and has become my greatest friend, safe from any and all harm that might befall him." He paused, wondering if he should beg further for it, before simply adding one word.

"Amen."


	9. London, 1941 A. D.

The seventh time (God was beginning to look forward to these little monologues from Her Principality on Earth; She had high hopes for these two, especially given the few monologues She'd received from the demon), Aziraphale was almost frantic. He had trusted the wrong human and had almost been discorporated, but for the timely interference of a certain demon.

The angel expended a miracle to protect himself and Crowley, and the demon expended a miracle to protect Aziraphale's books. The offered ride home had been accepted, as had been the offered drink. And Crowley had only put up token resistance when the angel had insisted on seeing to his feet.

Aziraphale had been gentle and attentive, cleaning and helping speed the healing along (God intercepted record of those miracles, making sure they didn’t show up anywhere) before carefully wrapping Crowley's feet. They shared some wine before the demon left for his flat, leaving a worried angel behind at the bookstore.

"Please, Lord," Aziraphale began, heart doing a staccato dance in his chest. "Please keep Crowley safe. This war is worse than the last and I worry he's in too deep in some plot of Hell's making. But above that, please keep him safe so that I might see him again. I… I came to a realization tonight, and I hope You will forgive me, should I need it.

"I love him. I don't know how long I have, but I know it has been a while. Probably a few centuries, if I'm honest. He entered a _church_ for me! Walked - well, danced about, rather, but - he walked into a church, on consecrated ground, just to keep me from harm!

"Please keep him safe, so that I might somehow find the courage to tell him as truthfully as I'm telling You how I feel about him. He truly is one of your best creations and a good deal better than many angels." As if fearing he'd said too much, Aziraphale paused, biting his lip. "Amen."


	10. Soho, London, 1967 A. D.

The eighth time, Aziraphale had just delivered what Crowley had requested 105 years prior - Holy Water. The angel had blessed it himself and felt wretched about it. He didn't know that God had upped the oomph of his blessing, knowing as She did why the demon needed it.

They'd made amends on that point, but Aziraphale, as gently as he could, rebuffed the offer Crowley had made, wrapped as it was in other words. And feeling like a wretched coward, the angel had fled the Bentley and didn't stop until he was back in the little kitchenette of the bookshop. Placing his hands on the counter top, he looked out the window, up at the sky.

"Please, Lord," he began, as usual, not knowing God tuned into him to the exclusion of all else when he uttered these words. "Please keep Crowley safe. I have given him what he once asked me for. I have given him Holy Water; I even blessed it myself. If he comes to harm from it, I will never forgive myself.

"He was going to try for some from a church; I couldn't let him put himself in danger like that! I just… Oh, what if he uses it on himself? No, he won't, he said it was just for insurance. I hope he never has cause to use it. I pray You will keep him safe. If only he could be safe from my own cowardice! For I know that's exactly what I am - a coward. I hold him at arm's length just so no one but You knows how much he means to me. Not even he knows.

"Please, keep my love safe." He stopped, but only for a moment. "Amen."


	11. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more year timestamps from here on out, out of deference for the difference between novel and miniseries. Hope you all are enjoying!

The ninth time it happened, the Antichrist had just been delivered, swapped, and both angel and demon knew about the impending Apocalypse (Not that God was ready for that, hence Her unconscious meddling). Crowley had just left the bookshop; the pair had decided to work together to 'take the bite out of' the Antichrist, not knowing about the mix-up at the satanic nunnery.

Something had Aziraphale worried, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it had been the unexpected in-person (and thoroughly judgmental) visit from Gabriel at the sushi restaurant. Maybe it was the knowledge he may only have about a decade - give or take a year - left to spend with his demon. Either way, Aziraphale found himself clutching his hands before his chest, staring up into the sky through a window.

"Please, Lord." Same start, like all the prayers before (God liked this pattern. It allowed Her to devote Her full attention to something). "Please keep Crowley safe. I worry about what we are planning to do and how much Hell may come for him because of it. Neither of us actually _want_ Armageddon to happen." (Was it time for that already? God wondered. She made some frantic notes and calculations.) "And I hope I can convince Heaven to reconsider, but I simply do not wish for any harm to befall my… my friend." He paused. "Oh, who am I kidding? I've already told You I love him. That hasn't changed. I just…

"Please don't let harm befall my love. I don't think I could keep going if Crowley was no longer in my life. No, if he were to be destroyed. If he were alive and no longer in my life, I could keep going. Especially if I knew he was safe." He took a deep breath before admitting the one thing he'd been dancing around, verbally. (God really was grateful Her little Principality - Her Chosen Guardian - was willing to confide in Her like this.) "I would find a way to obtain Hellfire, if I had to live in a world where Crowley had been destroyed," he whispered.

"Please keep my love safe. It's all I ever try to ask of You. I appreciate that You have done so, thus far. Amen."


	12. Mayfair, London (Part 1)

The tenth time, they had managed to thwart Armageddon (for which God was exceptionally grateful. She was going to have a little chat with Lucifer for jumping the gun - he _knew_ when he was supposed to send the Antichrist and it hadn't been NOW. And then She was going to have a chat with some of Her Archangels, yes She was!) and had devised a plan for keeping themselves out of more trouble. (She was just so _proud_ of them both! Her clever children!)

Crowley hadn't wanted Aziraphale to even set foot into Hell, but the angel felt the same way about the demon entering Heaven. It had almost ended in an argument. Until Aziraphale cried out, unable to stop himself, "I love you! I don't want Hell to destroy the only person I hold so dear!" They'd both gone quiet at that, but then Aziraphale had finished softly, "I would die inside." After that, there had been soft words of love from both of them. (God was very pleased. She held Love highest, after all, and these two embodied it. She couldn't help but rejoice a bit at their union.)

"Please, Lord," Aziraphale whispered, looking out the window and up at the sky from where he lay in Crowley's bed, the demon curled against his side and head pillowed on the angel's shoulder. "Please keep Crowley safe tomorrow. Or whenever Heaven and Hell come for us. I have confidence in our plan, but I'd like to be sure we've got Your blessing. He is my love, the best of Your creations. He is better than any angel I know - better, even, than Your Archangels." He turned to the sleeping demon, ran his fingers gently through red locks.

"I love him, Mother, and I hope You can do the same. Please keep him safe for me. Amen." Holding the demon close, he fell asleep.


	13. Mayfair, London (Part 2)

The third time Crowley actually prayed to God, Aziraphale was asleep in his bed. Armageddon had been averted and the pair knew they would have to face the music with Hell and Heaven. What had almost become an argument had taken a sharp turn at Aziraphale's confession, prompting the demon's own. Now, they had a plan and would stick to it until it was over. They'd shared a chaste kiss (God was simply _thrilled_ by the display. She may have let out a whoop of joy, but She'd not admit to it yet) and retired to bed. The angel rarely slept, and not for very long, but the past week, let alone the past 11 years, had been especially trying and stressful.

Crowley had awaken, the spill of moonlight across the bottom of the bed lighting up the room, and he watched Aziraphale's sleeping face for a few moments. Slowly, carefully, he slipped from the bed, moved to one of the windows, and sat down, looking out at the sky. Stars twinkled up in the blackness and he momentarily mourned the brightness of the moon and the amount of light pollution that dimmed and hid so many of them.

"You made me to Fall," he whispered into the night so as not to disturb Aziraphale's rest, "but You helped me find him. So, thank You? I beg You though - don't take him away from me now. Not when we just found each other. Protect him when Hell comes for him in my guise. Keep him safe. I would do anything, suffer kilometers of consecrated ground or whatever You would ask of me, just so he's safe." His eyes roamed over the sleeping angel. "I love him with every fiber of my unworthy being, corporeal and demonic. I just want him safe." He turned to look at the sky once more, just as the angel shifted.

"Mmm.. Crowley?" came the sleepy question.

"I'm here, angel," he responded, softly, getting up and moving back to the bed. No sooner had he sat down, gentle hands reached for him. With a gentle smile, he moved easily into the offered embrace, laying down and getting comfortable. Aziraphale immediately curled protectively around him. Together, they slipped back into sleep, feeling safe and cherished.


	14. Hell

Aziraphale, in the guise of Crowley's corporation, blinked his eyes open and refrained from groaning at the pain in his head. His wrists were bound and he was kneeling in a cell. Without a thought, he healed the pain in his head. Then he could think clearly. Looking around, he took in the dingy cell with it's bare floor, dirty walls, flickering light. He was in Hell, no doubt about it. And, oddly, he didn't feel anxious about it. He was here so he could keep his demon safe. Because, even if the corporation was of Hell, the fact that the essence occupying it was angelic and of Heaven, no Heavenly or Holy powers could harm it.

After a while, but before the angel-in-demon-form could start to get fussy, the door opened and several demons entered. Two of them approached him and pulled him up by his arms. He didn't speak as they marched him from the cell, which allowed him to feel a ghostly kiss to his cheek and hear a faintly breathed voice say _"Brave Principality,"_ into his ear.

He couldn't keep the smirk from his lips.

He was marched, swaggering, into a chamber with a bathtub, a raised dais, and a window with a slew of Hell's denizens on the other side. He stopped before Beelzebub, feeling nonchalant. This would work and the pair of them wouldn't have to worry about Hell or Heaven ever again; he'd make sure of it, if needs be!

He knew some of his own personality was leaking through now and then, but no one seemed to notice. These demons apparently knew Crowley as well as the Archangels knew Aziraphale. Which was to say, not at all, really. They charged Crowley with 'crimes' and intended to dunk him in a bathtub of Holy Water. Aziraphale couldn't quite figure out how they would do that, since handling Holy Water was so lethal to demons.

Then Michael showed up.

For one heart-stopping moment, Aziraphale thought he'd be discovered. But there was no flash of recognition in the Archangel's expression. Michael poured the Holy Water into the tub until it was full, then departed. And then he was expected to just slip right into the tub, so he did what he knew Crowley would do and summoned up some flash-bastard responses. They let him remove the suit, then he slipped gracefully into the water - once they'd confirmed it's potency, of course. Aziraphale felt only a flicker of sadness for the poor demon.

The water felt nice, it really did, and the expressions on all the demons' faces were well worth any discomfort Aziraphale may have felt about his state of undress - felt, but didn't show. Idly, he flicked water at the window; the demons on the other side flinched away. Before long, Lord Beelzebub discouraged the other demons from remaining - just as Michael returned. She appeared shocked that the 'demon' hadn't met the intended fate, and he found himself unable to resist requesting a towel. Which the Archangel provided, too shocked to do anything else.

Getting out of the tub and drying off, Aziraphale _suggested_ he (Crowley) be left alone from now on. Demons and Archangel nodded. With a smirk, Aziraphale-as-Crowley gathered his clothes and shoes, slipped them on, then exited the chamber. He took the lift up and waited just outside the doors of the 'office building' that housed the entrances to Heaven and Hell.

 _'Keep him safe, my Lord,'_ he thought. (God heard, as She always did.)


	15. Heaven

Crowley, in the guise of Aziraphale's corporation, entered Heaven between two Archangels and felt a soft ghosting kiss against his cheek. He thought he heard a faintly breathed _"Welcome back, Starmaker,"_ in his ear, but he couldn't be sure. He'd not been called _that_ in many an age, after all. The Archangels threw him into a cell and left him there.

He tried not to lose track of time, but it wasn't easy to keep it in this place. It was harsh and bright and white, like it was trying to prove it's goodness by aesthetics, alone. It helped him understand, just a little bit better, why his angel allowed so much clutter and coziness in his bookshop.

He hated the blankness here.

Before he could really go stir-crazy (though he fussed a bit, just for show), Uriel arrived and pulled him from the cell. They walked down several identical hallways - enough that Crowley grew a little concerned about finding his way out - before entering a large room, one wall of which was floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was so very _Heaven_ and Crowley barely repressed a shudder. He was led to a chair and maneuvered to stand before it. Then Uriel pushed him into it, a cruel smirk on her lips. In a blink, his wrists were no longer bound together, but to the arms of the chair. He kept his silence, having an idea that Aziraphale wouldn't have started babbling yet, if he would at all.

The demon had seen his friend in tense situations (the one that got them here, for instance), and the angel hadn't babbled, then. So he wouldn't start, now. The click of shoes echoed around the room as the Archangels Gabriel (man, but Crowley wanted to just knock that smug smirk off the bastard's smug face!) and Sandalphon arrived. Uriel joined them as, with a snap of fingers, Gabriel summoned a ring of stones on the floor.

He asked about it, both because Aziraphale would and to satisfy his own curiosity. The response he received both amused and chilled him. A _barbecue_. They were going to be in for quite the surprise!

The lift behind him dinged softly, then he heard footsteps. One of Hell's lesser demons came into view beside him, near the stones. The next thing that happened was a pillar of Hellfire flaring up within the circle of stones. The demon made a request, was granted it, then thought better of it as Crowley-as-Aziraphale stared him down. Once the demon left, Uriel approached him and removed the ropes.

Crowley made some statements he knew Aziraphale would have made, received an overly harsh response from Gabriel (which only inflamed Crowley's ire towards him), then stepped into the fire.

It felt _amazing_ , standing in that pillar of Hellfire. He opened his eyes (hadn't realized he'd closed them, actually) and immediately saw three horrified faces. Unable to resist (and still hearing Gabriel's "Shut your stupid mouth and die already" echoing through his mind), he opened his mouth and blew some of the Hellfire at them. It was satisfying seeing them skitter back away from him.

He stayed in the fire for a while longer before stepping out, unscathed (except for the slight limp that had only manifested in this corporation upon stepping foot in Heaven. Crowley was going to have to ask about that, later.), and turning to the terrified Archangels. He then _kindly suggested_ that he (Aziraphale) be left alone from now on All three of the Archangels nodded. Then, with a sweet smile he had seen his angel make whenever he got his way or was simply pleased with himself (a rare occurrence, really, and Crowley now had several suspicions as to why), thanked them, and saw himself out. He let his feet do the walking and they led him to the lift, which he took to the main Earth entrance.

Upon exiting the building, he was joined by Aziraphale in his corporation and together they walked to Berkeley Square.

It was no St. James' Park, but it would do for their purpose. And so, they switched back, exchanged a few pleasantries, then went to dine at the Ritz for lunch.


	16. A.  Z. Fell & Co., Booksellers

That evening saw them sitting in the bookshop, as usual, regaling each other with what had happened earlier in the day. Though Aziraphale seemed a bit saddened that he'd not had much of a trial, he also did not seem terribly surprised. Which actually surprised Crowley.

"It isn't as if they really _liked_ me, Crowley," the angel stated matter-of-factly. "They made that clear time after time. So no, I suppose it doesn't shock me that they were content to simply outright _murder_ me. I'm just glad you had a trial, for all that it was a farce. Hell, at least, tried a little."

Before Crowley could respond, the bell to the shop door jingled. Angel and demon exchanged a look of confusion, before Crowley was grabbing his sunglasses and slipping them on as Aziraphale rose to kindly tell whomever it was that the shop was closed, thankyouverymuch. Both knew the door had been locked.

A noise of surprise from Aziraphale had Crowley off the couch and by the angel's side in a heartbeat. And then he, too, made a sound of surprise.

There, standing in the middle of the atrium (where Aziraphale had discorporated; where Crowley had sat after being hit by a blast of water from a fire hose as the bookshop around him burned) was a tall, lithe young woman. She was rather non-descript, but the smile that blossomed on Her face at the sight of the pair of them was bright.

"Principality, Starmaker," She breathed with such _happiness_ , it made both of them wince. "You have both been so brave these past few days. These past several _years_! All because you love this Earth and all of humanity upon it." Neither moved or spoke, unsure of what to say or do. Her smile broadened as She saw Aziraphale clutch at Crowley's hand, prepared to protect the demon. "Worry not, my brave Aziraphale. I mean no harm to you or to sweet Crowley. I merely wish to thank you both for all you have done for me. And to give you both my blessing. I have heard your prayers, especially seeking the protection of the other, and have known your hearts. Either by your own direct words," She looked at Aziraphale, who blushed brightly, "or by your implications," Her gaze shifted to Crowley, who fidgeted a bit and looked away.

"What you feel is a blessing and I shall endeavor to keep it safe. It is sacred to me, after all, and what I hold highest and greatest. None shall harm you - not Heaven, not Hell, and not Human. You are an angel and demon no longer, though you will always retain your abilities. No Hellfire or Holy Water shall ever harm you and any who try will receive swift retribution, be it from your hands or mine.

"Only _you_ understood that one cannot understand my Plan, for it is of my own design. And so I claim you both as Mine. May you find happiness together." Then She turned and made Her way to the door. She paused with Her hand on the handle and looked back at them.

"Yes, this is really happening. Please continue to grow and change and _choose_. I gave Free Will to my Angels and Demons, too, after all. The two of you have been the only ones brave enough to use it." And then She was gone.

Neither moved for a long time. When they did, they did so together, leaning in to each other, seeking solace. Eventually, they made their way to the couch and sat, hands still clutched tightly together, as if each were afraid the other would disappear if they let go. It was Crowley who broke the silence first, removing his sunglasses as he spoke.

"Did She really…?"

"It would appear so. Did She actually….?"

"Ah, yeah. Both of us." They nodded in agreement. Then Crowley startled. "Love."

"Love?" Aziraphale repeated, confused.

"What She holds highest and greatest."

"Ah, yes. That would be Love," the angel agreed, nodding.

Their heads snapped to face each other, eyes wide. Twin smiles crawled across their faces as they leaned toward each other, until lips met lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

They only broke apart to whisper three little English words to each other, both blissfully happy.

_"I love you."_


End file.
